


Be the lightning in me that strikes relentless

by thevaliantdust



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevaliantdust/pseuds/thevaliantdust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her eyes flicker open at the knock on her door.</p>
<p>She doesn’t know who she’s hoping for, or even that she’s hoping for someone at all until she opens the door and sees his face.</p>
<p>Her words are a soft breath. “Hi.”</p>
<p>He echoes her. “Hi.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be the lightning in me that strikes relentless

**Author's Note:**

> So Vax knocked on Keyleth's door. And she let him in. Of course I had to write a possible version of events for that night. (I say possible version because that scene is basically the Schrodinger's cat of the vaxleth fandom)
> 
> Title from The Lightning Strike by Snow Patrol

The sky darkens around her and she can’t sleep. Her eyes are closed and she can feel the sun’s fading warmth and she can’t sleep. 

Her eyes flicker open at the knock on her door.

She doesn’t know who she’s hoping for, or even that she’s hoping for someone at all until she opens the door and sees his face.

Her words are a soft breath. “Hi.”

He echoes her. “Hi.” 

Simple words, but his eyes are full of… relief? Almost as if he expected her to immediately turn him away. She can’t imagine what has given him this impression seeing as he’s the one walking away lately. Not that she blames him, with everything going on, it just- hurts. 

But here he is, at her door, with her hand imprinted on his skin. Something tells her he’s done walking away.

“I don't want to be alone tonight.” 

She doesn't dare breathe as she waits for him to finish.

“Do you?”

There are a lot of things she hasn’t been sure about lately, but somehow this isn’t one of them.

“I haven't been wanting to be alone most nights,” she confesses, only coming to understand the depth of truth behind that statement as it leaves her lips. 

And then she steps back, out of the doorway, and he steps in. 

There is tension in his posture as he passes her, his shoulders are taut, arms without their usual lithe swing and she knows without having to ask, but she asks none the less.

“Does it still hurt?”

He stops and turns his head to look at her, eyes briefly noting the closed door behind them. He watches her eyes travel over his form, settling on a spot between his shoulder blades. 

He reaches a single hand back, grasps the collar of his shirt and pulls upwards. There’s a barely hidden wince as he tugs his plain cotton shirt over his head, dropping it on the ground without a thought. 

“A little,” he tells her, stilling as she steps closer, her tiny hand outstretched, mapping itself to the scarred pattern on his skin. Her fingers lay across the blistered flesh and he expects pain but feels none. He’s not sure if that’s Druid magic or fried nerve endings, but he’s glad for her touch either way. “Better now,” he finishes, finding her other hand and holding it tight in his.

For her part, she gets lost for a moment in the heady rush of having her mark on him. More, that he chose her mark; that he fought to keep it. She wants a way to choose his mark too.

She looks up and meets his gaze. Strong and steady and unapologetic. And then suddenly she understands. This is the face of a man who loves her, a man she… She loves. A man whom she has allowed to place his mark not on her skin but on her heart. 

“Vax.”

It is breathy, needy, barely enough.

He turns suddenly, awakened by her wordless request, one hand immediately threading through her hair, the other resting tenderly on her waist. He looks into her eyes like he’s trying to see every inch of her being, every hour she has ever lived and ever will live all in the same instant.

She feels the air leave her lungs, the air which is her very essence, but she can't seem to will herself to breathe in. And yet it doesn't matter if she can just stay in this moment forever. This moment where she knows she is loved, deeply, and safe in the arms of the one she is loved by. 

Eternity that lasts but a second passes them by. 

Her hand finds itself resting over his heart, the other moving slowly up to his face. She traces the lines, creases, minute scarring she’s never noticed before. He is still, allowing her to touch him, to know him. 

Her fingers brush over his lips and he presses a gentle kiss to her fingertips. She recalls the last time those tender lips touched hers, wonders if maybe he’ll do it again. Perhaps he’s thinking about that moment too because his fingers tighten and twist in her hair, a split second warning before he leans in. She doesn’t wait for him, rising on her toes to meet him halfway.

Her arms wrap around his neck just as his wrap around her waist, tugging her closer as the kiss deepens. She marvels at how different it feels to be kissed by someone- or more, to kiss someone- when it is expected, anticipated. When she’s not battling surprise or an odd sense of propriety or a confusing mix of emotions. When she _wants_ it. She smiles into the kiss, enjoying this small measure of control in a time where just about everything else is beyond it. 

He feels the change in her posture, the quirk of her lips, and pulls back for a moment with a quizzical tilt to his brow. It’s almost too much, taking in the radiance that soaks every inch of her skin. Before he has time to be overwhelmed by it all, her lips are on his again.

He dips his hands down in one fluid motion and lifts her, never breaking the kiss. There is a tiny squeak on her part, but her legs wrap around him instinctively, allowing him to carry her towards the bed. He lays her down gently, her vibrant hair pooling under her head. 

She feels the soft sheets against her back, the shadow of his muscular arms braced on either side of her, the mere inches of space between their bodies, and against her will a small bead of panic starts to form in her chest. 

She knows where this leads, she’s not that naive. But until this moment she’s never understood quite how something as simple as a kiss leads to… all that. A kiss means _I care about you, I want to be near you,_ sometimes even _I love you_. But… that… means something else entirely. Something she’s not sure she’s ready for, something she’s not even sure she’s interested in. 

But this is Vax. Vax who handed her his heart knowing full well she could break it. Vax who waited, who didn’t push her to know her own mind before she was ready, even when it must have been killing him. He’d never ask her to do anything she didn’t want to, she’s very sure of that. 

But it’s too late- her split second of doubt is all it takes for him to notice the change in her touch. He pulls back, searching her face for what went wrong, and she’s not quick enough to hide her fear.

In a flash he’s up, off the bed. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, jagged, unable to meet her eyes, all but running towards the door. 

She can’t let him go. She knows, because she knows him, that if he leaves now they’ll never have another chance. He’s far too quick to condemn himself. So she reaches for him, her desperation outweighing his self-loathing, allowing her fingers to lock around his wrist before he can step out of reach.

“Vax!”

He tries to tug out of her grip but her fingers dig into the veins of his inner wrist. She moves to stand in front of him, between him and the door.

“Kiki- Keyleth, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I’m an idiot, please let’s just-”

“Vax! Listen to me.”

Her voice is firm, unwavering, cutting across his jumbled apologies. He is suddenly silent, his eyes finally meeting hers, swallowing the lump in his throat.  
She stalls for a moment, not entirely expecting him to comply. Instinct tells her not to reach for him, not to stroke his face or brush back the strands of hair even though her entire being aches to do so.

Eventually she finds words but they’re not nearly enough. “Please stay.”

He turns his head away with a small shake. 

“You’re scared of me,” he says in the smallest of voices, so full of self-loathing it nearly breaks her. 

She shakes her head vehemently, releasing his wrist to place both hands on his chest. 

“No. I’m scared, yes. I’ve never been- I’ve never felt like this, never been close to anyone like this and I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know what I want, I-”

She stops for a moment. Her eyes flicker down for a second before she looks up to meet his again.

“I know I want you,” she begins again, a very pointed surety in her voice. “I know I like kissing you, I like being close to you, I just… don’t know if I want the… other stuff.”

Her usual flustered nature returns. A look of vulnerability and uncertainty crosses her face but she pushes through, determined. “It’s never been something I’m interested in, and the idea that I can’t give you what you want, that I’m not enough for you, yeah, that scares me.”

Immediately she sees his eyes widen in understanding which quickly turns to vehement denial. His hands up until now clenched at his sides, grip her upper arms tightly, fingers digging firmly but not painfully into her skin. 

“You are enough,” he tells her, each word so weighted down with meaning that she feels them sink into her flesh. “Everything you are is enough for me, every moment you allow me, it is enough.”

As she struggles to come to terms with the depth of his conviction, he continues. “I wasn’t- I didn’t expect anything from you, Keyleth. I don’t expect anything. I don’t need anything you’re not willing to give.”

He says these words with a tone of finality, but she knows this won’t be the last time they talk about it. For now though, she can see the tiredness on his face, the need in his eyes for her to believe him, to understand how badly he wants to do right by her.

So she smiles and says “okay.” 

Because it is okay, more than okay. She reaches up and presses a short, soft kiss to his lips, then takes him by the hand. The feeling of contentment settles between them; the conquering of one tiny hurdle of the hundreds they’ll have to face. It is enough for tonight.

Together they walk over to the bed. She pulls back the covers and crawls into bed, tugging him along with her. The settle in, fitting together in a way that is uniquely _them_. Her hand threads through his hair, soft and soothing. Her heartbeat is steady, slowing his own to a restful state he hasn’t known for a long time. His fingers trace up and down her spine, delicate and intoxicating all at once. 

For the first time in many nights, sleep comes easy.

**Author's Note:**

> The ending was partially inspired by Wendydoodles' Vaxleth fan art: http://wendydoodles.tumblr.com/image/139259708921  
> Like, holy shit kill me now.


End file.
